Water Works
by SaraBarns
Summary: PruCan Oneshot: Sort-of sequel to Texting at the Table. Matthew just wanted to relax at the pool after a World Meeting. That is... until Gilbert suggests they bring a little extra something that Mattie just can't refuse. But what does this something extra do when Matthew forgets it was there in the first place? Curse his kinks!


**A/N:** Ok... So this is sort of a sequel to Texting at the Table. That's also a smutty PruCan oneshot. You don't have to read that to read this, because it's just mentioned, but if you like this, I'd go read that if I were you lol.

**Disclaimer:** Hetalia's not mine~! Um, obviously. Enjoy~!

* * *

I stepped out of the elevator behind Gilbert, with one of his hands locked tightly between both of my own. I found myself wishing he had a shirt on so I could bury my face, hands, or any combination of the two in it, but then found other parts of myself quickly disagreeing, and informing me of their approval of his shirtless state. "I don't know why I let you talk me into this," I muttered.

He came to an abrupt stop, and gave me a concerned look over his shoulder. "Whoa whoa whoa, you're not having second thoughts, Birdie, are you?" He paused a minute, before adding, "We can do this in the room, if that makes you feel better about it! Or not at all, if you changed your mind and you're not comfortable…"

"No, I'm okay with it," I said, and hesitated before adding, "I'm just a little nervous, that's all."

"Oh, well if that's all," Gilbert flashed a relieved smile. "Don't be! The awesome me will make sure this goes off without a hitch, alright Birdie?"

"Okay," I nodded, blushing a little at the confidence and strength that just seemed to be radiating from him. He was right; and I trusted him to make sure this did go off without a hitch. If I didn't, I never would have agreed to it in the first place.

We continued down the hallway until we reached the last door; a glass one to the hotel's pool. I could already see some of the other nations slipping in, after having rushed to their rooms to change after the last World Meeting ended. Gilbert touched my arm to get my attention, and brandished the water bottle we'd brought from the hotel room. I swallowed nervously, but took no action to take it from him.

"Well, are you going to drink it now, or would you rather wait a bit?" he asked, cocking his head to the side as I fidgeted before answering.

"I-I don't know… what do you think I should do? I don't want to… right away, but…" I stammered.

"I don't know, Birdie, it's your decision," he said, pushing the bottle into my hands and closing my fingers around it. "I'm not going to push you into anything, alright? Just do what you will with it –or don't– and tell me when you want to leave."

I nodded, and he kissed me lightly on the cheek, grinning, before pushing open the glass door, and gesturing me to enter first. I chuckled at the gentlemanly action, but outright laughed when he proceeded to run past me and execute a cannonball right into the deep part of the pool. I bent over to retrieve the red flip flops he'd left at the doorway, and when I looked up again, his silvery head of hair was resurfacing, and several other nations were grumbling complaints. Crimson irises opened and locked with mine as a pleased grin made its way onto Gilbert's pale features. "Well?" he asked.

"Awesome," I smiled, and he fist-pumped, reveling in the score I'd given him. With Gilbert, there was no one-to-ten scoring rubric. There was one-to-awesome.

I padded over to one of the small tables placed around the walls of the indoor pool, and deposited Gilbert's flip flops beneath it. I slipped the water bottle into my bag, just a small red messenger bag with a white maple leaf printed on the corner, and left the bag on the table. I placed my glasses on the table beside it, and silently thanked whatever circumstances that had allowed me to only need my glasses for distances. No contacts for me, not even in the pool. I toed off my own flip flops, and didn't remove my shirt –an overlarge white number with a red maple leaf in the center– before dipping my feet into the water, and glancing around to see who else was here.

America was already in the water, because he'd worn swim trunks under his suit. I knew because he'd announced it to the entire room during his presentation on how wearing bathing suits all the time could help stop global warming. England appeared to be ordering him to take off his glasses, but looked to be losing the battle from the edge of the pool. Apparently Alfred knew it too, because he ducked under and swam to the ledge quickly before seizing an unsuspecting Arthur's legs and pulling, sending him falling onto his ass at the side of the pool with a string of curses. Before Arthur could fully recover from the shock of being dropped, Alfred heaved the island nation over his shoulder and dove back into the pool.

The Italy brothers were just stepping in, and it looked as though Italy was dragging a furiously blushing Germany in after him, while Romano was the one being tugged into the water by a cheerful-looking Spain. Germany just looked painfully uncomfortable in a long pair of swim trunks and his typical black tank top, while Italy was happily bouncing into the water wearing only a green speedo. Romano's was identical but in red, while Spain's was simply black.

France seemed to be arguing with a female towel attendant about something or other, and after taking one look at his lack of all forms of clothing, I didn't need to hear what he was saying to guess what that was. In the towel attendant's defense, France was an attractive man, and even though the sign said bathing suits required, I could understand how she could be persuaded to let it slide.

Greece was asleep on a floating inflatable chair, and Japan was paddling it slowly around the pool, looking calm and pleased. I was surprised to notice a cat sleeping on Greece's chest, but Italy seemed thrilled, and quickly left Germany in the shallow end to swim over to it to pet it.

Hungary waved at me from the other side of the pool, and shifted a beach ball to under her other arm, wearing only a green and white checkered bikini. Austria, sitting beside her, was in a deep purple pair of fitted swim shorts, and nodded in my direction when he saw me looking. Hungary winked, and I blushed as I recalled her assistance to Gilbert and I at Alfred's dinner party after the last series of World Meetings.

"Hey, Mattie, come on in!" Gilbert called, waving at me from the left side of the pool, the one opposite the Italy brothers and most everyone else, because it was the deeper end, at 12 feet. "You look so unawesome over there all by yourself! Come join your awesome boyfriend!"

"Alright," I said sheepishly, looking wistfully towards the right end of the pool, the one that looked much shallower than the one Gilbert was waiting for me in, if the signs along the cement reading 6 and 12 feet, respectively, were anything to go by. Ah, could I be any more obvious? I really didn't want to go in the deep water.

I pulled my feet out of the water, and made a wet trail across the tile flooring from the side of the pool I'd dipped my feet in to the adjacent one, right near where Gilbert treaded water. Sinking to the floor, I dipped my feet in the water once more and kicked back and forth a few times, but kept the rest of my body firmly planted on the cement edge of the pool. My hands gripped the curved border tightly, as a precaution to make sure what had happened to Arthur would not happen to me as well.

Gil ducked beneath the water and began to swim over to me, and I watched his distorted figure beneath the blue water in the pool. His skin was so pale, it was indeed looking rather blue at the moment, and the black swim trunks he wore certainly weren't helping the contrast any.

But I couldn't deny, he was graceful in the water. Each movement was slow and fluid, and each stroke moved him closer to me. I knew for a fact I just looked awkward and ungainly in the water, first and foremost because I liked to keep my head above water at all times. Gil twisted and spun around underwater like a seal, while I would always struggle to stay afloat like a dog.

"Hey," Gil said, wiping his hair out of his eyes as he resurfaced beside me, resting his other arm on the edge of the pool to stay above water. "Mattie, the pool's not gonna up and go somewhere, you know. You don't need to grip that hard," he mused, tapping my fingers, which were still curved tightly around the cement lip.

"I-I know," I acknowledged. "I just don't want to fall in or anything over here."

"Do you not like the deep water?" Gil frowned, placing a hand on my knee in concern.

I just shook my head. No, I HATED deep water.

It wasn't logical, because as nations, we couldn't die by drowning, but like humans, we all had our fears. Among mine, swimming was one of them. When Al and I were a lot younger, we were fooling around in the Great Lakes, and Al was trying to teach me how to swim. Only, I didn't want to jump off the dock when he decided it was time for me to go deeper into the lake. So Al, being the bigger of the two of us, grabbed me and ran right off the dock, and took me with him. We were underwater for a lot longer than I had ever wanted to be, and naturally I was terrified. I hadn't breathed enough when Al grabbed me, and I tried to do so underwater, but got a mouthful of lake water for my trouble. We got out alright, after Al swam us both to shore and I hacked up a lot of liquid, but I've harbored a dislike of deep water ever since.

"Okay, we can go back, Birdie," Gilbert grinned, pulling himself out of the water, and shaking his hair out like a dog. He offered me his hand, and I took it, standing and following him all the way around the pool until we reached the stairs the Italians and their companions had just recently vacated.

"So, uh... If we, err, do t-that..." I began, hesitating as Gil started going down the steps and into the pool ahead of me. "I-I'd prefer to stay over here... Before it gets that d-deep."

"Of course, Birdie," he said, sounding uncharacteristically serious. "Like I said; I'm not going to force you into anything you don't want to do."

"I know," I smiled, and relief flooded through my system. Well that was one less thing I had to worry about.

I went to follow the albino man into the water, but he turned around and stopped me before it even reached my waist.

"Aren't you going to take your shirt off?" Gil asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I want to keep it on," I said defensively, grimacing and tugging at the hem to pull it down even farther.

"Suit yourself," the Prussian shrugged, closing his eyes and stretching both arms above his head (and giving me a fantastic view of his entire chest) before cracking one eye and smiling mischievously at me. "But that's a white shirt, Birdie, it won't do much."

I looked down, then back up, frowning unhappily now. I hadn't even thought about that. But it was a thick shirt, so perhaps I would be alright. I wasn't the only one not comfortable with my body anyway, because Germany was already in the 6 foot water, and he had yet to remove his tank top. Deciding I would try it anyway, I shrugged at Gilbert, and continued into the water with the shirt on.

It was cold compared to the air, and I wrapped my arms around my chest, shivering slightly. I took the first few steps quickly, but paused as the water reached my thighs. Taking a deep breath, I hurried down the rest of the steps and exhaled deeply once I reached the bottom of the pool, letting the last of the shivers wrack my frame before considering wetting the rest of my body. The water at the bottom of the stairs was only 4 feet deep, so I pinched my nose and ducked under the water, once again shivering at the low temperature of the water. Blurry shapes drifted around further away in the blue surroundings beneath the surface, but I had to go up for air before I could distinguish which nations they each were.

As I came back up, I swiped my hair out of my face, and blinked a few times to get the water out of my eyes. Gilbert wolf-whistled, and I looked down, flushing instantly as I realized my nipples were not only erect from the chill of the water, but could be seen right through the white fabric of the shirt, two dusky pink nubs bordering my maple leaf.

"Seriously, Birdie..." Gil chuckled, "Take it off. That won't do a thing for you."

"But..." I hesitated before acquiescing with a sigh.

I hooked my fingers under the wet hem of the shirt, and pulled it up to my chest before pausing, and wriggling one arm out of the sleeve. I tugged it over my head, and shook my hair out as a few drops of water landed on my forehead.

"I did what you see there," Gilbert bragged to France and Spain, who had drifted over to his sides. A cheshire grin was spread across his features, and I blushed furiously when my mind registered the look he was giving me.

I tossed the wet shirt at his face, and he laughed, scrambling in the water to try to avoid it. It hit its mark anyway, and Gilbert whined in protest before unceremoniously chucking it somewhere outside of the pool off to his right. With another devious smirk, he dove towards me as France and Spain scattered, heading off to bother some other poor nation. I squeaked in dismay as Gilbert's hand brushed my leg underwater, and I fell backwards a few steps to fall into a seated position on the steps just behind me. He surfaced just beside me, and took a seat to my right on the concrete step, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pressing a kiss to my cheek.

"Hi, Birdie," he whispered seductively.

"Gil!" I exclaimed, blushing again as I pushed away from him and stood in the 4-foot water again. "You know I don't like it when you do that..."

"Only because it..." he paused for dramatic effect, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Turns you on. Kesesese!"

"Gil!"

"VOLLEYBALL!" Alfred's voice rang through the enclosed pool room, and I had only a moment's notice to fling an arm over my eyes as Alfred made a running leap off the diving board at the twelve-foot end of the pool.

A few screams (Arthur, Italy) rang out, quickly followed by a stream of curse words (Romano) and a few bouts of laughter (Prussia, Spain and France).

"I believe it's cannonball, Ameríque," France sighed, flipping his now-wet hair over a shoulder.

"No!" Alfred pouted, as he shook his hair out, further drenching an already-soaked Arthur. "Pool volleyball!"

"YES! I'm in!" Gilbert shouted, ruby eyes blazing. "Awesome people versus unawesome people!"

"I'll get a net!" Spain piped up, his own emerald eyes glinting mischievously as he seized Romano's hand and dragged the Italian out of the pool. "Come on, Lovi~!"

"Bastard, what-!" Romano cried, but Spain had already tugged him out through the glass doors, and any additional arguments went unheard by us.

"Deep team and shallow team!" Alfred yelled, grabbing Arthur's hand and attempting to swim back to the deeper end of the pool.

"Volleyball? Sounds hard. I think I'll stay over here and take a nap," Greece yawned.

"Git, I can't swim that well!" Arthur protested, flailing around desperately to try to get Alfred to release his grip. "Let me go! I'll play your stupid game, but not in water I can't even stand in!"

"Heracles, where is the fun in that?" Was it me, or was Japan actually pouting about Greece not joining in?

"Germany, Germany, can we play?" Italy pleaded, bobbing up and down in the water in front of the Germanic nation, clasping his hand in front of his chest. "Oh, please? It sounds like so much fun, ve!"

"Haha, please, as if you could stand in the six foot water either! Come on, Iggy!" America laughed loudly.

"Hey!"

"Italy, I don't know if that's the greatest idea..." Germany said warningly.

"Boys, boys, boys!" Hungary exclaimed, clapping her hands together to get everyone's attention. She tossed her beach ball to America, who happily caught it, and proceeded to attempt to sit on it. "There is a very simple way to go about doing this. I'll choose teams, and then we'll play."

"Why do you get to choose teams?" Gilbert

"Miss Hungary," Italy piped up. "Germany says I already picked my team! I don't really want another one, ve, that would get really confusing!"

"No, Feli, not like that," Hungary assured him, smiling sweetly. "We all already know which team you picked, sweetie, (and isn't it just so adorable~) this is a different kind of team."

"How are you going to pick teams?" Japan asked quietly. "We have an uneven number of players. There are thirteen of us."

"Oh, I don't want to play, really," Greece sighed, stretching out on his pool float and stroking his cat. "I'll just watch, okay?"

"Hmm, let's see, then..." Hungary mused, scrutinizing each of us for perhaps a little longer than necessary. "Well Romano will be on the shallow end, and Antonio will be on the deep. I think Alfred, darling, you'll be on the deeper end because Arthur doesn't like swimming, and Roderich dear, you'll be on the shallow side as well. Ah, let's see, Francis, you can play deep, and Kiku you'll be on the shallow side also."

"Ohonhonhon, yes I will,~" Francis purred, as he and the others chosen for the team playing in the deeper water swam to the far end of the pool. "Too bad I can't be on your team, isn't it, Angleterre?" he cooed, looking at England now. Arthur shivered, but didn't say anything in return, just started muttering about frogs.

"Now," Hungary continued, placing one hand on her hip and pressing a finger to her lips in contemplation. "Feli, you'll play on the shallow side, and Ludwig, you can swim, can't you? You'll play deep."

"Ve, I get to be on a team with Kiku!" Feliciano cheered, swimming over to Japan's side and wrapping two tan arms around his shoulders.

"Hai, but Feliciano-san, I ask that you try very hard to win," Japan said quietly, but determination burning in his eyes. "I would very much like to win."

"Oh, don't worry," Feliciano smiled. "I may look like a pushover, but I'm really good at this kind of stuff, ve~! And Luddy's not very good."

"Ah, what about Prussia... Are you sure you counted right, Japan?" Hungary frowned, her eyes scanning the pool once again, and passing right over me.

I sighed, and let my shoulders slump, but didn't bother saying anything. It wasn't like she would hear me anyway.

"You forgot Birdie!" Gilbert fumed, crossing over to where I stood in the pool, wrapping his arms around my waist, and tucked his head into the junction of my neck and shoulder. "Not awesome, Elizaveta."

"It's okay, I'm used to it," I smiled, as Hungary started apologizing. "So where do I play?"

"Ah, okay... Gilbert, you usually top, don't you...? Never mind, you didn't hear that. Canada, darling, you play shallow, and Gilbert you can play deep."

"What about you, Hungary?" Greece asked, still drifting approximately in the middle of both teams.

"Why I'll be on the deep team, of course," Hungary waved the question off as though it had an obvious answer. "I wouldn't fit in with that team of ukes- ah, I mean sweethearts!"

"We got the net!" Spain called, as the door to the pool slammed open again, and Spain, quickly followed by a furious-looking Romano reentered the pool room. Spain was dragging a volleyball net behind him, and Romano held two poles and a bag of screws, all of which he promptly dropped on Spain's foot, and ignored in favor of getting back in the six foot end of the pool. "Ay, so not cute!" Spain choked out, as Gilbert and Francis hopped out of the pool (while laughing) to help him.

"Yes, yes, you boys set that up," Hungary said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "We'll set up the rules. How many points are we playing to, dears?"

"Don't they normally play to twenty-one?" England suggested, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand. "I'm not really one for volleyball, but that seems like a good number. And Heracles will referee, won't he?"

"Oh we won't need a referee," Hungary said, her eyes glinting darkly. "If someone tries to lie about whether or not a ball hit the water, I'll make them spend an hour with Francis and I alone in a locked room."

A silence befell all the nations after that comment, so intense that I could only hear the pool water lapping up against the concrete sides of the basin for a good minute. Then Germany cleared his throat, and everyone went back to their idle chatter.

"Alright, the net is set up," Spain said, because he appeared to be the only one truly unaffected by Hungary's threat. "Who starts with the ball?"

"Oh, I think we can afford to let the uke- I mean, shallow team start with the ball~!" Hungary hummed, finally slipping into the water herself, and wading to the middle of the twelve foot side. "Feli, why don't you serve?"

"Ok, ve," Italy smiled airily, and I mentally cursed my side for having quite possibly the weakest team possible. In fact, I think Hungary set this up on purpose.

America, the athlete. Err, sort of. France, who is always really fit. Prussia, who is also always fit. Germany who is just INSANELY fit. Hungary, who... well she probably just wanted to win. And Spain, who was also very, very fit. Against white-flag-carrying Italy, uncoordinated Romano, awkward England, reserved Japan, prissy Austria, and me, who nobody even remembers.

My thoughts followed pretty much that exact track the entire time Italy was taking the ball from Hungary (She was explaining all the rules of the game) and returning to his place at the back of our end of the pool. I sighed aloud (because no one would hear me anyway,) as Italy hefted the ball over his head and tossed it up with just the tips of his fingers, then twirled in a half circle and smashed it across the net, right over Alfred's head and into the space between Spain and France.

"Dios mio," Spain breathed, and Gilbert whistled lowly in agreement.

"Yay, point for the ukes, right Miss Hungary?" Italy giggled, smiling innocently across the net at Hungary.

"U-Um, ja, point for Ita-chan," Gilbert muttered, staring wide-eyed at Italy just like the rest of his team. He tossed me the ball over the net, and gave me a look that seemed to be reassessing just what I could do on a volleyball court.

"Good job, eh," I congratulated the Italian, patting him lightly on the back and handing him the ball.

"Ve, grazie, Canada~!" Italy smiled.

"A-Ah, hey, we weren't ready!" Alfred finally piped up, waving his hands in protest.

"Well get ready then, ve, because here it comes~!" Italy said cheerfully, tossing the ball up again, performing his little half-spin, and smacking it over the net right to Alfred and Gilbert.

Gilbert scrambled to hit it before it could touch the surface of the water, and managed to tap it back over the net, right towards England and Romano. England dove to hit it back into the air, and once everyone saw it wasn't going to make it back over the net, Romano launched himself up to smash it over the net and into the water in front of Hungary.

To her credit, she managed to hit it in time to send it over once again, but this time it came towards me, and I sent it flying back over the net with a clean setting pass, and right towards Alfred. He returned it with one fist, which of course wasn't a real volleyball move, but since nobody else seemed to be calling out illegal hits, Austria let it slide when he sent it back over yet again.

Surprisingly, the single pass went on for a good ten minutes, with everyone getting their fair share of ball time. The next took even longer, and the few after that took longer still. I had to admit; I had underrated my team. We ukes (though technically Gilbert was as much of an uke as I was,) did extremely well. And the other team (minus Gil) kept forgetting I was there, so I played probably twice as much as the rest of my team, although Italy and Romano dominated as well. I (and Hungary, so it would stay even) actually took a break for one pass to have a drink of water, because it was a tiring game. Then of course we had to get everyone else a bottle of water, because we were already out of the pool and they were tired too.

Halftime consisted of all thirteen of us lounging around the edges of the pool drinking fresh water (as opposed to chlorine water, which would be unfortunate) and debating how exactly our team was doing so well. (We were beating the "semes" as Hungary had let slip and called them, by six points.) Alfred proposed a side change, but England and Romano were so vehemently opposed, we decided not to after all.

And so the game continued, beginning with the other side serving, because they were losing. Surprisingly, my competitive side was coming out, the one that normally was only there during hockey season. Regardless, I was having a lot of fun. I think everyone -even Romano- was. My face was growing flushed all through the second half, but I attributed that to either the exertion I'd already submitted myself to, or the heat in the room, because I wasn't the only one with pink cheeks.

The game ended when we reached 21 points (the other team only had 18), per the agreement, and on a fantastic serve by Romano once again that Spain missed by just the tips of his fingers. The net was quickly disassembled, and everyone went about reuniting (from separate teams) with their partners, all except France, who decided it was his duty to find someone to share his extra love with, (whatever that meant,) because England wouldn't "take" it.

Gilbert swam over to where I had gone to wait for him to finish putting the net away, which was a corner in the four-foot end of the pool. I hooked both arms over the concrete corner and waited, idly wondering why my face was still so hot. My swim trunks also felt a little different, and I shifted my legs awkwardly, trying to remedy whatever situation was going on down south. A familiar sensation pricked at my stomach, but I ignored it for the time being, passing it off as having to use the bathroom or something equally unimportant.

"You guys really kicked our asses during that game, but I've got you cornered now, Birdie," he grinned, locking me in place by gripping the sides of the pool on either side of my arms.

"_Hah_, yeah..." I drawled, twirling my fingers in mindless patterns on Gilbert's pale arms. My teeth clenched together, and a shiver ran down my spine before lodging somewhat uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach. I didn't really know why, but just that one action from Gilbert had begun to turn me on.

I fidgeted nervously in the water, and wondered just why my swim trunks felt as tight as they did. Idly, I rubbed a hand across my forehead, because right then wasn't the best time to try to rub a hand across my trunks to find out what was wrong down there. Even though that sounded really good right about then.

"Birdie, are you okay?" Gilbert asked concernedly, pressing a hand to my forehead. "You feel really warm..."

"Ah..." I gasped, as both the feeling of having his hand so close to my curl, and the intense sort of look he seemed to be giving me. "Gil, I feel funny," I informed him, wrapping my hands around his and holding it close to my cheek. The feeling of his cold hand against my warm skin was heaven, and I found myself wondering if that would work on my neck as well. I dragged his hand down my cheek to my neck and held it there, finding pleasure in the coolness and the contact.

"Birdie?" Gil asked again, and I gazed into his eyes, struck by an intense desire to kiss him.

I did so then, pulling his body in close to mine, so close it became pressed flush against me, and I kissed him deeply, tangling my tongue with his, searching for something to quell the sudden desires I was feeling.

"B-Birdie," Gil stammered as I finally took a moment to breathe, but kept his body pressed in close to my own. "You drank your water, didn't you? You feel a little, ah..." he paused, and slid a hand down to cup the erection I didn't know I had, "...excited."

"_Oh_," I groaned in a mixture of pleasure and surprise, leaning into his touch, and at the same time, realizing I had indeed drank the water... The water bottle from the hotel room Gil and I had mixed an aphrodisiac in before we left. "Oops," I whispered, a little bit of the color draining from my face as I realized I was sporting an erection that would not be going away any time soon in a pool with eleven nations who didn't know what was happening right now.

...and then became COMPLETELY mortified as I began dry-humping his leg, and found myself unable to stop. But I could feel the erection growing with each movement of the fabric against my sensitive skin, and couldn't quite bring myself to care enough to stop.

"D-Do you want to go back to the hotel room?" Gilbert asked quickly, holding my hips in place to stop the action.

"I don't know if I would be able to -_Ohh_- walk all the way there like this," I moaned, as someone jumped back into the pool, creating a series of waves that sent my trunks brushing against my oversensitive cock.

"Fuck, it's so tempting to just strip you right here and fuck you senseless," Gilbert growled, pressing an openmouthed kiss to the juncture of my neck and shoulder.

"Do it... Shit, I mean, so not helpful, Gilbert," I whined, digging my nails into his back for emphasis.

"Whoa, you swore!" he exclaimed, pulling back and scrutinizing me with his ruby eyes wide open in shock.

"Gil, I am _so_ horny," I said seriously, my own eyes wide, but for a very different reason. That being the erection that was now growing painful to support. "I don't care. Fuck me _now_."

"_Ah_, I think it's time to go back to the hotel room," Gilbert said breathily, slicking his hair back with one hand and clenching my arm in the other, probably in a measure of self-control.

"What's the matter," I giggled hysterically, and reached a hand down to his crotch, grabbing it and squeezing lightly. "Excited, are we?"

...Indeed he was, if my handful of five meters was anything to go by.

"Fuck yes," he muttered through gritted teeth, lust-clouded eyes staring avidly at me. "Stop teasing before I take you up on that offer. You'll regret it later and we both know it."

"Gil, I really really don't care though," I pouted, as my erection continued swelling with each movement in my shorts. "I'm _so_ freaking horny, I want you to fuck me SO bad... It's starting to hurt... Gil..."

"I'm going, I'm _going_, Birdie!" he exclaimed, tugging me out of the pool as fast as he could, and towards where the bag with our stuff lay.

He shoved both of our pairs of flip flops in rather unceremoniously, and then pulled me to the door, and stuffed the bag into my hands before positioning my hands with the bag in front of my crotch, presumably so no one would see the fantastic tent in my trunks.

"Mattie's not feeling so awesome," Gilbert announced to the room at large, slinging an arm around my shoulder and gesturing to my flushed face with his other hand. "I'm gonna take him back to the room. You guys have fun, alright?"

"Aww, bye Canadia!" Alfred called.

"Feel better, Matthew," England said.

"Oh, you two have nice sex, alright? Sex always makes me feel better," Greece hummed. (Japan blushed... and Hungary got a nose bleed.)

And not another word was said (thank God, I was DYING) before Gilbert dragged me out of the pool room, and into the elevator just a few doors down.

"Dammit, Mattie, don't do that to me," the Prussian growled hungrily, biting at my shoulder. "I was seriously about to fuck you right there. When did you even drink that water- halftime?"

"Yeah," I said breathlessly, leaning my back against the elevator wall (and pressing the 3 button so we could get to our room) and submitting to the pleasure of Gilbert's touch. "I forgot it was in the water."

"I'm almost glad you did," Gilbert said, seizing my hips and beginning to grind against them. "You're so _fuckable_ right now."

I groaned at the delicious friction against my dick through the layers of fabric in my swim trunks, almost allowing my knees to buckle at the sensation. The feelings were so much more intense than usual. Gilbert's length felt harder and warmer against mine. The cold water on Gilbert's body felt fantastic as a contrast to my burning skin, and having his hand threaded through my hair had never felt so good.

Gilbert flipped me around then, pressing my face to the elevator wall and grinding against my ass, and I moaned again, my body growing excited as it guessed what would come next. He didn't remove my swim trunks though, he just slid a hand around my waist and down into the front of my trunks. I gasped at the cold contact in such a heated place, and bucked into his hand, frantically urging him without words to do something more.

He quickly obliged, sliding his nimble -and cold, oh God, so COLD- fingers up and down my length, touching with varying degrees of pressure, first feather-light touches, then powerful squeezes, and making sure every inch was felt up before going over it again.

I was already so close when Gilbert decided to lock his mouth around my curl as well. It being my erogenous zone, he might as well have been giving me a blow job for the sensations it was giving me. The flow of pleasure up my spine and coiling in my stomach was so much more intensely than I was used to. The combination of the cold fingers, Gilbert's treatment of my curl and the heat of Gilbert at my back sent me over the edge in almost record time, and I came with a rattling shiver, coating the inside of my swim trunks with my essence. I slid down to the floor of the elevator, though Gilbert remained standing, and I could tell from his breathing he hadn't found release yet.

"Enjoying yourself?" Gilbert panted, patting my shoulders soothingly. He took me by the wrists and tugged me into a standing position, wrapping an arm around my waist to support me.

I nodded, leaning my head against his shoulder as he helped me out of the elevator, which had been open already for God-knows how long.

"Good..." he purred seductively. "And I think you will be just about all night if that aphrodisiac lasts as long as it's supposed to, because I will be milking this as long as possible. Maybe literally."

I felt my cock beginning to spring back to life already, and swallowed in nervous anticipation as Gilbert unlocked our hotel door.

"_Good_..." I muttered, upon realizing just how quickly my erection was returning to its hardened state. "I don't think I'll be done any time soon,"

* * *

**A/N:** Ah, I got quite a few requests for a sequel, and after a particularly amusing day at the pool with my own Gilbert (dirty pervert xD, I love my Gil so much,) I decided to write one! And I was like, well I can easily combine this with the other one (the reference to Mattie wanting to try aphrodisiacs), so... Hehe. This is what you got from it. Hope you liked it~ (Smutty enough?) And if you guys REALLY like this, I might do a Spamano version. Like, what Spain and Romano really did while getting that net, and what happened after Canada and Prussia left~

(Note: That's kinda taking a while. My inspiration is sort of all over the place at the moment, so I think I'll write it EVENTUALLY, but I'm not sure WHEN.)


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